I shook my head as I folded the burgundy linen napkin and placed it beside my plate. “Not really. Actually, I feel great.”
“Hmm,” Ms. Chambers mumbled, offering a forced smile. “Well, that’s nice.”
The sound of the front door opening caught our attention. Moments later, with Devin in tow, the ambassador entered the room. He removed his jacket and handed it to Ms. Chambers, who left to hang it up. He sighed deeply before turning his attention to us. “Well, how is everyone doing?”
“Fine,” Rick answered quickly.
Ms. Chambers re-entered the room. “Mr. Cross, about Henry’s room, I—” She hesitated. During her moment of pause, I noticed a peculiar expression crossed Devin’s face. He looked nauseated. And scared.
She glanced at my face and relented. “Is there anything you want done with it, sir?”
The ambassador swallowed hard and straightened his tie. Clearing his throat, he replied weakly, “At the moment, I believe it best that we leave it alone. DCI Rowling.” He glanced at me. “The Deputy Chief Inspector will be over tomorrow to close Henry’s case.”
I stared at him. The idea that any police detective would close out a case like that without autopsy reports seemed insane, even if this was a foreign country. I wanted to say so, but something told me to let it go. Henry was dead. It was Arthur I needed to focus on.
Ms. Chambers curtsied slightly. “As you wish, sir. Is there anything else you’ll need this evening? There’s still pork shoulder in the kitchen. Would you care for some?”
Mr. Cross shook his head as he walked out of the dining room and into a room, which resembled a den. He sat on a light-colored cloth couch and turned on the television set.
We all followed him into the room and Ms. Chambers added, “Well, then, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to retire for the evening.”
The ambassador stared absently at the screen and said, “Yes, of course.”
I barely noticed Ms. Chambers as she left the room. My attention was focused on Devin. He appeared tense, as if something made him very uncomfortable.
Although there was no reason for suspecting that Devin was behaving out of the ordinary, I did. While Rick sat on the opposite end of the couch from the ambassador and stared at the tennis tournament on the television, Devin headed toward the glass doors that led to a large, stone balcony.
I followed him outside. Even though it was night, the city lights across the Thames River reflected on the water and lit up the sky. Devin leaned against the balcony and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He held the box toward me.
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
He shrugged, stuck one between his teeth and shoved the pack back in his pocket. Flicking his orange plastic lighter, he lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. “So what are you doing out ‘ere, love, if you don’t want to bum a fag?”
I crossed the balcony and sat on the edge of a small, metal table with a glass top. “Answers. I want answers.”
He exhaled and grinned. “Answers about what? Your choice in men?” He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “You could do much better.”
I ignored his comment, pressing, “I want to know about Henry Cross.”
His smile faded. He began to tap his right foot on the stone floor in agitation. “What do you want to know? ‘e’s dead. OD’ed, ‘e did.”
“How did he die?”
Devin glared at me. “An overdose. I just said that. Are you bloody deaf?”
I stood up and walked closer to him. “I know Mr. Cross gave Arthur money to pay Bronx off so he would stop selling to Henry. I don’t think Henry got his drugs from Bronx the last time.”
Devin finished the cigarette, threw it to the ground, and smashed it with his boot. Seconds later, he pulled another from the pack and lit it. With the cigarette dangling from his lips, he asked, “So?”
“How did he get the drugs that last time?”
Devin threw his hands in the air in frustration. “ ‘ow would I bloody well know? I’m the ambassador’s personal assistant. I drive ‘im around. I don’t take care of ‘is children. God knows I don’t make enough for all that.”
“I think you do know. You may be the ambassador’s assistant, but something’s up with you. I think you’re more involved in this than you’re letting on.”
At this, he lifted his right hand as if to slap me, but stopped, clenching his hand into a tight fist, his knuckles bone-white. Taking several short breaths, he finished the cigarette and threw it down, several feet from the first. “You’re not worth it,” he spit, heading toward the doors.
“Devin?” He turned, his nostrils flaring. I sensed there was something off about him, but my first approach was clearly the wrong one. Pulling a pen from my purse along with an unused napkin from the airplane, I frowned. “I’m sorry. That was rude. Listen, while I’m here, I’m thinking about checking out a few sights. You know, when I’m not working. Can you give me directions to Buckingham Palace?”
He eyed me warily for several moments before walking over and snatching the pen and napkin. Leaning over the metal table, he jotted something down quickly. Standing up straight, he handed them back. I glanced at the paper and my suspicions were confirmed.
“Devin?”
“What?” he exclaimed, no longer hiding his disdain.
“You were Henry’s connection to Bronx.”
“What?” Devin’s green eyes widened then narrowed. “That’s a pretty wild accusation, Love.”
I held up the napkin and pulled out the slip of paper from Henry’s medical book. When Ms. Chambers had flown into the room, I grabbed the paper before she had a chance to notice. Both papers were written in the same long, left-slanted script. Devin stared at the evidence and swallowed hard.
“Look familiar? I found it in Henry’s room. You introduced him to Bronx. You were his contact.”
Devin brushed his red tresses out of his eyes and held his hands up defensively. “Listen ‘ere, I didn’t make ‘im a junkie. That bloke ‘ad been using for years.”
“Maybe, but you made sure he had an unlimited supply.” I shoved the papers back in my purse. “Haven’t you worked for Mr. Cross for years? How could you betray him like this?”
Devin glanced back to make certain the balcony doors were still shut. He then moved to the edge again and crossed his arms. Speaking barely above a whisper, he hissed, “I didn’t ‘ave a choice. ‘enry found out about my little problem.”
“You’re a user, too?”
Devin scoffed. “Are you bloody joking? Do you think I’d be ‘ere if I did drugs? No, my tastes aren’t that trite.” When I continued to stare, he sighed. “One of me vices got a bit out of ‘and when I was trying to, uh, resolve it, ‘enry caught me borrowing a bit of money.”
“How much money?”
He clicked his tongue. “‘bout three ‘undred pounds.”
“What was the vice?”
“May as bloody well tell you. You’ve figured this much out. I’ve got a bit of a gambling problem.”
“Casinos?”
“No, the tracks.”
“So Henry caught you stealing and demanded, what? You help him score or he’d rat you out?”
“That’s the long and short of it, yeah.”
“How did you find Bronx?”
Devin presented a curious smile. “I don’t think you really want to know that.”
I sat there in silence, considering all he said and what else I needed to know. Finally, when he was about to light another cigarette, I heard myself say, “I want to meet Bronx.”
He dropped the cigarette. It rolled several feet before getting caught in a crack in the stone. He glanced down at it before looking up at me with a bewildered expression. “You want to what?”
No longer surprised by my own statement, I repeated firmly, “I want to meet Bronx. He’s probably the last person to see Arthur. I want to know what he knows.”
Devin shook his head back and forth. “No, no, you really don’t want to do that.”
“Listen, the only reason I’m here is to find Arthur. I need to follow his last known movements if I’m gonna have any chance of finding him alive.” I paused, glaring at Devin. “If you refuse, I suppose we can tell Mr. Cross about you and Henry and then maybe he can talk to Bronx”
His face turned an even whiter shade, making his freckles the only signs of life on his face. He shook his head again. “No, no, no, no. Don’t.” He paused, staring down at the cigarette. Finally, he met my gaze and groaned. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’ll see if he’ll meet me?”
“I’ll bloody try, all right? Now, promise me you won’t go blabbing about all this.”
I glanced at the balcony doors and saw Rick walking toward them, a puzzled expression on his face.
Devin followed my gaze and swallowed hard. “Promise?”
“Fine,” I said as Rick opened the door. He walked over to me and put his arm around my waist. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he replied, staring at Devin suspiciously. “Is everything okay?”
Devin swallowed hard and picked up the cigarette. “I need to get a bit of fresh air,” he stammered, heading to the balcony doors, which led into the flat.
“Fresh air? You’re outside,” Rick reminded him, his suspicion mounting.
Devin licked his chapped lips. “Right. Well, you see, this air is too fresh. It’s not, uh, filtered. Never know what you may be breathing, Mate. Toxins and what ‘ave you. I need some fresh, filtered air. Right,” he nodded as he headed inside.
Rick watched him before looking down at me. “What’s up with him?”
I shrugged. “He’s British.”
Rick raised an eyebrow.
“Look, he came out here to smoke. I wanted to see if he had any leads that might help me find Arthur.”
“Did he?”
I stared through the balcony’s French doors and watched as Devin sat down on a chair, clasping his hands nervously. Shaking my head, I muttered, “We’ll see soon enough.”
Chapter 14
By eight o’clock London time, the ambassador excused himself for the evening. He insisted that he wanted to begin working on the case bright and early the next morning. From the looks of him, I figured he wouldn’t be up until the next afternoon. I was surprised to find how alert I still was after such a long and unusual weekend. Rick, too, seemed unaffected by jet lag.
“Just wait,” he said. “Tomorrow, we’re going to feel like we were broadsided by a double-decker bus.”
Although he was content to watch television after Devin went home for the evening, I wanted to start working while I was still energized. After all, Arthur was missing. I pulled my hair up into a makeshift ponytail. “Rick, what kind of things did you and Arthur do while you were living here?”
“We hung out. You know, movies, dance clubs. Stuff like that.”
“Are those the kinds of things Arthur would still be interested in?”
Rick leaned back against the couch, staring up at the five-inch crown molding. “Yeah, I guess he’d still be into that sort of thing.”
I leaned forward, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Well, then, let’s check out some of those places. Now.”
Rick blinked. “Tonight? I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don’t think we’re going to find Arthur at the movies.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I know we won’t see him there, but there’s a chance someone there may have seen him.”
“I don’t follow.”
I adjusted myself on the couch, crossing my legs. “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking: Arthur comes here with a plan. He’s gonna take care of Henry’s thing, but, he packed a lot of clothes. And dropped his summer classes. Maybe there was something else he wanted to do. Maybe there was someone else he needed to see.”
Although the thought of Francine Harris, the dead journalist, crossed my mind, I still couldn’t find a logical connection between the New York woman and London. Still the postmark on the envelope made me curious.
“If that’s the case, that Arthur had other plans, you think those plans included vanishing for a while?”
I furrowed my brow, considering the possibility. Finally, I shrugged. “It’s possible, Rick. I don’t know Arthur. There’s very little I know about him, to be honest. You’re his cousin, his friend. Does that sound like him? Would he disappear?”
Rick shook his head. “No. Arthur’s private, like me, but he’s also considerate. He may distance himself from his family and the Cross name, but he wouldn’t do something like this to his mother.”
A sudden ringing caught my attention and I turned toward the sound. I soon realized that my cell phone was ringing and quickly pulled it out of my purse. My heart was racing. I forgot to call Jon. As I stared at the screen, I realized this was not Jon. It was my mother. Rick noticed my anxious expression.
“What’s wrong? Who is it?”
I swallowed hard. “My mother,” I whispered as I stood up and left the room. “Hello?”
“Jordan, darling! What took you so long? No, never mind. I have fabulous news. Well, it’s not my news per se, but I just had to call. Jordan, Alicia is pregnant!”
While my mother rambled excitedly, I barely made it to the nearest chair. “What?”
“I said your sister is pregnant! She’s about five weeks now. Oh, it’s so exciting. She was crying when she told us. Even Charlie’s eyes were a little moist, bless him. They’re going to be fabulous parents. That child is going to be so smart and so attractive. Well, Jordan, what do you think? You haven’t said a word!”
I stared across the room at an oil canvas of the Cross children when they were younger. I couldn’t help feeling connected to Arthur at that moment. Despite my own accomplishments in life, which included graduating with honors from Brown University and opening a successful private investigation firm on my own, nothing I did would ever be good enough for my parents. How could it when nothing I did matched the life they planned for me?
My older sister, Alicia, however, did everything right. She went to an in-state, private university and graduated top of her class with a medical degree. After her residency, she married a successful, southern lawyer whose views mirrored my father’s.
I, on the other hand, refused to stay in Louisiana, opting instead to go to one of the best schools on the east coast. To add insult to injury, I decided not to come home after graduation. Instead, I settled in Boston, to begin following my childhood dream.
Despite everything, I loved my parents. And I knew they loved me as well. They disapproved of my choices because they were not “safe” ones. I am not close enough to rescue, should the need arise. What they didn’t understand is I would never allow such a need to arise.
“Jordan?”
Great. Daydreaming again. “Yes, Mom?”
“What do you think? Isn’t it fabulous? You’re going to be an aunt!”
I forced a smile. I knew she couldn’t see it, but I also knew she would tell from my voice. “Yes, it’s wonderful news.”
“And you’ll be coming home for the first baby shower in September, right? It’s a couple’s shower so you should bring Jon.”
My face burned red at her mistake. “Rick, Mom. My boyfriend’s name is Rick.”
“Oh, yes, of course. My goodness.” She laughed. “I’ve been so preoccupied with the baby that I completely forgot my manners! Tell me, what are you up to? Anything new? Are you still doing that thing?”
I looked around the opulent drawing room in Ambassador Cross’s London flat. I cons
idered telling her all about my weekend, starting with our visit to Cape Cod, followed by Martha’s Vineyard, and finally flying to London on a private jet for my job, a job my father swore would never work. This desire to prove my self-worth was trumped, however, by my desire to do a good job on this case. I decided not to mention it.
“I’m just working a lot.”
“Uh-huh, that’s nice, sweetie,” she interjected. After momentary silence, she chirped, “Oh! Jordan, that’s your Aunt Maureen. I have to tell her the news. This is so exciting! I’m going to have to call you back, dear.”
“Sure.”
“Oh, before I go, I know Alicia is going to call and tell you. I’m dreadful, really. I should have waited to let her tell you but I couldn’t help myself. When she calls, make sure to sound enthusiastic. This is a very big deal, darling. She’s going to be a mommy!”
“I know it’s a big deal, Mom.”
“Oh, I wish you would settle down,” she lamented.
I chewed on my lower lip, nearly causing it to bleed, in my attempt to keep from saying something I would later regret. I did not take her proverbial bait.
“Well, sweetie, I really must go. Love you much!”
“Love you, too.” I ended the call quickly.
“You okay?”
I turned to see Rick standing in the entryway. I considered telling him about how frustrating it is to be constantly compared to your perfect sister, but decided against it. Despite being a little over a quarter of a century old, I knew that I was not ready to get married. And I was definitely not ready to start a family.
Lost Distinction (Jordan James, PI Series) Page 17